


A Deal Which Cannot Be Refused

by LyssGreen



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: A continuous debate in Geralt's head between trusting Jaskier and not trusting something inhuman, Canon Typical Swearing, Friends to Lovers, Geralt certainly doesn’t, Geralt is confused, I know both so I pick and choose what I like lol, I think this counts as slow burn at this point, Jaskier has some grey morals, Jaskier is excellent at getting himself out of trouble when he needs to, M/M, Minor references to game lore and a bit of book lore too probably, More tags to be added, Multiple Monster Hunts, Nonhuman!Jaskier, Slow Burn, eventually, just a warning, lets be honest, no one knows!, not wanting to totally spoil this okay?, oblivious Geralt, too excellent.., we know what he'll choose, what is he?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23387530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LyssGreen/pseuds/LyssGreen
Summary: Jaskier got into trouble a lot, that was normal. But not until he was too late to help Jaskier did Geralt ever realise that Jaskier was perfectly capable of solving his own issues. He has the ability to turn a whole argument on its head, unfailingly coming out the victor with a smile on his face, and the slightly burnt scent of pure magic in the air. Every time Geralt asked how exactly he got himself out of some new impossible situation Jaskier had just smiled and offered a well crafted but purposefully vague answer. Usually relating to a deal of some form, or a favour that Geralt didn’t really know if he wanted to know any more details of.-Or - Jaskier isn’t quite human, Geralt can tell that much. What he can’t figure out is exactly what Jaskier is.Featuring misunderstandings, very confused and slightly oblivious Geralt, morally grey and at times ominously terrifying Jaskier and some healthy doses of angst.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 100
Kudos: 344





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was doing the Hearts of Stone DLC in the Witcher 3, decided a certain character was cool if a bit off putting and creepy, and suddenly this happened in the space of like 2 hours. 
> 
> Points if you notice a certain classical literature reference near the end.

Geralt had known from the very first day that something about a Jaskier was a little...off. 

Now it was nothing major, or he wouldn’t trust the Bard so much. Just something in the air whenever he was near. A certain disturbance around him. At first Geralt just thought he was going a bit mad - after all, the bard was no mage. He wasn’t a sorcerer or a peller or a Druid. That was obvious. There was no controlled magic, surely. There’s no way Jaskier, his bard, could possibly be a sorcerer. The bumbling, unlucky, at times charming, at other times painfully awkward, young man who was practically a kid - there was no way he could hold any real power. 

But that ever so slight aura never did fade. 

Geralt ignored it though. Within two years of travel he trusted Jaskier, as in really trusted him. He would let the bard stand in his blind spot and be fine with it - Jaskier was harmless after all. He was sure. He hoped he was sure. 

_ Maybe he’s just on the cusp of having enough magic to be a sorcerer. Doesn’t mean he is one, he can’t have the training - won’t have been to Ban Ard. He’s far too young. He was 18 when we met- he told me as such.  _

When five years passed without the bard bringing up the odd amount of chaos magic that surrounded him, Geralt settled and decided for certain that whatever it was - Jaskier himself didn’t know. And that was fine. That was how it would stay. 

The thing is, Geralt really did try to ignore it - sometimes he even succeeded. But then there were other times - moments like right now.

He had agreed to accompany Jaskier to a ball in Toussaint, overly fancy, full of vengeful cuckholds, poncy nobles and flowing wine. Geralt didn’t mind the wine part. Everything else was awful. He stayed in the darkest corner of the elegant ballroom that he could find, trying to slip into the shadows and praying to literally any deity willing to listen to him that people left him the fuck alone. He should never have agreed but the damned bard always got what he wanted. He would just bat his long dark eyelashes over pale blue eyes and smile as he reminded Geralt once again that ‘ _you owe me, Geralt. I made you famous - I changed your image. You’re welcome!’_. Geralt couldn’t not agree to his every whim as he singsonged his argument. 

He glanced over to Jaskier, all dressed in an emerald green silk doubled, beaded and embroidered in silver. He had finished playing for the moment, his lute left propped on a stand in the corner of the room. He was talking to a woman who Jaskier had previously assured Geralt was the Duchess Anna Henrietta, a veritable muse of unparalleled beauty - who happened to have a husband with an unparalleled temper. Clearly they were flirting, Jaskier flashing perfect winning smiles and saying what must have been just the right things to make the Duchess laugh.

Geralt huffed, realising he was going to need to stop this before his bard got himself in hot water - more than he likely already was. 

But because fate hated him - as soon as he stepped out of his dark hidey hole, some noble Geralt didn’t give a shit about felt the need to strike up a conversation. And then another noble joined. And another. 

“So tell me, Witchman, would you be willing to work as security? It’s just my estate has so many problems with bandits and-“ Geralt zoned out, trying to see Jaskier through the crowd. 

And was hit was the horrid realisation that he couldn’t. 

“Shit.” He grumbled, suddenly panicked that the Bard was about to get himself killed. The noble ladies around him gasped at his language, a few scandalised whispers leaving their lips. Not that Geralt gave a shit. He was more preoccupied at the realisation that not only was Jaskier missing, but as was the Duke, who would be none too pleased by Jaskier’s flirting with his duchess. 

Abandoning any shred of manners he faked he barged past the gaggle of nobles in search of his stupid, accident prone, unlucky, can’t keep his cock in his pants, bard. 

He frowned as he followed the scent of Jaskier, the spice of clove and orange that followed him wherever he went, despite Geralt never actually seeing him own any expensive colognes. The trail led him out from the main ballroom and away to a sheltered garden. He growled as his hearing caught the murmur of Jaskier’s voice. 

“Come now, I’m sure we could come to an agreement on this!”

“You slept with my wife!”

“And I just made you a very good deal. Consider it?” 

Geralt stalked closer, ready to make sure Jaskier didn’t get himself executed for treason or some other human shite. 

And then something odd happened. The world seemed to...shift. Geralt could swear he heard a tone of a lute, the sweet sound of the strings echoing through the air, and then a hit of Chaos that made his medallion shudder violently against his chest, warning him of magic, and then...nothing. 

Geralt hurried his steps and Jaskier and the Duke came into view, suddenly not fighting. Not even a scent of annoyance, which should have been there. The duke was angry not 10 seconds ago, it wasn’t long enough for a humans scent to change entirely, there should have still been adrenaline and sweat. Instead it was just _Jaskier_ , the spice and sweet of his scent. Jaskier was holding his lute in his hand, smiling sweetly at the man, who himself looked rather pale. 

The fuck is going on?

“I’m glad we could come to a deal.” 

“I- yes. I too. Sorry. It’s, it’ll be done. Yes.” 

Jaskier broke into a too cheery grin that could rival the sun, “I’m glad to do business with you.” The Duke nodded shakily and scuttled away, looking small. Jaskier followed him with his eyes, and quickly settled on watching Geralt, “Geralt! So good to see you! I was thinking, I think we’ve been here long enough? Don’t you agree?” Geralt just blinked, still a little startled, “Court parties are fantastic for money but really now, how could it compare to life on the road with you? I mean, really. Not even a vampire to liven the place up! We should set out in search of a monster tomorrow! Something dramatic!” 

“I doubt a vampire would liven anything up...” Geralt squinted slightly, something seems very wrong about the scene in front of him, even without the Duke being there. Jaskier laughed. 

“Ah, yes, right you are on that, dear Witcher. Come on now, off we go. Have to sleep to hunt monsters, yes?”

“Right...” Jaskier fell into step beside Geralt and led him out of the ball and back to their room. “What did you say to him, Jaskier?” 

“Hm?”

“He sounded ready to kill you, and then...wasn’t.”

“Ah, yes. That.” Jaskier tugged on his fringe and smiled in a way that could only be described as sheepish, but that didn’t seem right for Jaskier’s whole personality, “Well, you see. I’m just that good with people.” The smile switched to a bright grin, “ I made him a deal he couldn’t refuse! I need to be good with people, really. I don’t always have my dear White Wolf to save me, do I?” Jaskier fluttered his eyelashes playfully, jokingly, and Geralt just huffed a laugh and rolled his eyes. 

“If you can do that then why do you need me around at these things?”

“Oh but that just wouldn’t be any where near as much fun!” Jaskier pirouetted with a laugh and Geralt just smiled fondly at the specific brand of chaos that followed Jaskier around.

It wasn’t until he was lying in bed and Jaskier was snoring softly beside him and he could see the lute set carefully on the side table that he realised what had been so wrong. Jaskier had left his lute inside. 

  
-

Geralt noticed more after that, remembered Jaskier’s words. Because he had a point, one that Geralt felt bad he had never thought more about. They parted ways fairly often, spending a month or two together and then parting for a few weeks to deal with their own business before finding eachother again somewhere along the road. 

The thing was. Every time Geralt was with Jaskier, he ended up saving the bard’s ass. The helpless bard that ended up in endless trouble, and every single time Geralt saved him. But what did happen when Geralt wasn’t there? Surely he didn’t just not have any problems. With the amount of issues Geralt had solved for Jaskier that just couldn’t be the case. The man had a list of scorned lovers and vengeful cuckholds holding grudges that surely far outstretched the years he had been on the planet. 

Every time Geralt how he got himself out of some new impossible situation Jaskier had just smiled and offered another well crafted but purposefully vague answer. 

‘ _ We came to an agreement.’ _

_ ‘I called in a favour.’ _

_ ‘Magic, duh! Hah! Oh your face Geralt! I’m kidding of course! No need to look all grumpy witcher!’ _

_ ‘We had tea. Really gave us time to talk.’ _

_ ‘Oh who? I don’t know anyone by that name. Ask around. I’m sure no one here has heard of them.’  _

That one in particular had been accompanied by a scheming and mischievous smile, cornflower blue eyes glinting. Geralt had heard a few days previous that Jaskier was a few towns over and in hot water. Again. This time threatened by a März Hase. When he asked around it turned out this März was a piece of work, he gained the title of ‘Host of the Mad Tea Party, for a reason, the man being half mad and known for brutal banquets held to ‘murder the time’ (whatever that meant) and always lead to gory deaths, usually by decapitation. Geralt had mounted Roach and rushed to help as soon as he could. 

But when he got there, true to Jaskier’s word, no one had heard of any März Hase. And they weren’t lying. They didn’t have that scent that came from lying, or the increased heartbeat. If anything their eyes seemed to glaze for a moment, their face falling lax for just a split second, before they shook their heads and went back to normal, adamant that they’d never heard the name.

These people had genuinely never heard of the supposedly infamous, murderous baron. 

Geralt was confused, more confused than he could ever remember being in his near century of life. He opened his mouth to ask what the fuck was going on but was beat to the post by Jaskier, suddenly breaking out into conversation. 

“So anyway, I was thinking we ought to find something to eat! I’ve we’re together again, may as well start with a meal. Is it tea time? I do think we ought to head to the inn, don’t you? We’d hate to be late!” 

Jaskier was grinning to himself, as if he were laughing to a private joke. Geralt didn’t dare to question. 

Though it did seem like far too much of a coincidence that the ‘Host of the Mad Tea Parry’ suddenly disappeared from the face of the earth and memories of everyone, and the first thing that Jaskier suggested was tea. 

Geralt chewed at his lip.

This required more information. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ll update this probably on Tuesday night or sometime Wednesday, got some work I have to do for uni first. Some people who know Witcher game lore could maybe see where I’m going with Jaskier in this, I’d be interested if anyone thought they could guess. For now however, it’s 3AM, and I should sleep.  
> Kudos and comments appreciated, I do my best to answer all comments - love yall


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt considers the aging of humans - and the related lack of aging of Jaskier. He doesn't get any closer to a conclusion.

The nights after the apparent disappearance/non-existence of the Baron März Hase left Geralt feeling ever so slightly unnerved. He was trained to be suspicious of everything around him, in his job looking for danger in every corner wasn’t paranoia – it was survival. Which is why it was alarming that he trusted Jaskier, had trusted for almost a decade, and yet there was still this something that just wasn’t right about him. But it didn’t really deter Geralt from staying in the bard’s company. He was more annoyed at himself.

On the third night he found himself unable to sleep. Jaskier had long since laid down for the night across from the fire pit between them, the clearing they had set up camp in was calm, Geralt couldn’t hear any danger for a mile around. And yet he just couldn’t settle.

 _Am I making a mistake here? Trusting him? Am I really just being paranoid? Either Jaskier is something…_ other _, and I’m losing my touch because I couldn’t notice – Vesemir will kill me if that’s the case. Or I’m completely wrong and imagining things, in which case I’m making simple mistakes like not noticing when a lute is left in a ballroom and when it’s in Jaskier’s hands. In which case, I’m going mad_ and _losing my touch._

He grumbled at himself, an annoyed grunt, and then thudded his head back against the tree he was leant on, the hollow thunk wasn’t particularly satisfying. He heard Jaskier’s heart change slightly, heard his breathing change from the measured and even breaths to a different rhythm that signalled him to be awake.

“Geralt?” Geralt just hummed in response, “What on earth are you doing?”

“Can’t sleep.” Geralt kept his voice low, Jaskier sat up to look at him, his dark hair was sticking out at odd angles from sleep.

“Well, have you tried lying down? Personally I find it one of the necessities of sleeping.”Geralt grunted again, “Okay? Something’s definitely wrong with you.”

Geralt just watched as Jaskier dragged his bedroll over to Geralt’s side of the fire, dropping it on the floor beside Geralt and sitting down without hesitation close enough to have their thighs touching.

“So, Mr. Grumpy Witcher, care to tell me what’s wrong? I’m very good at solving other people’s problems, I’ll have you know.” Jaskier flashed a smile, “Something must be bothering you – you’ve been funny since that village.” Geralt grunted an agreement, “Ah, so it is related to that. I told you, I’ve truly no idea where you heard that information but I can assure you I am entirely fine, head still attached to neck and all that rot, no decapitations or crazy barons to threaten me. Really, I’m ever so confused as to what’s bothering you so much.”

Geralt looked up at the dark sky, small stars barely visible through clouds overhead. He chewed on his lip, _I don’t know what’s bothering me either, honestly. What’s worse? The idea of Jaskier hurt? Or the idea of Jaskier lying to me?_ He decided to try and just keep his distance for the moment, to take more time to get his thoughts arranged.

“Doesn’t matter, Jask, just go back to sleep.” Geralt closed his eyes and leant back against the tree trunk. For a long few seconds he could feel Jaskier not moving against his side, but he could feel the twitch of muscles, the barest hint that he was considering moving but was thinking it over.

“You Witchers. I’ve no idea what goes on in that head of yours, I could spend the rest of eternity with you and I doubt I’d understand.” There was a light humour to Jaskier’s tone. Geralt didn’t answer, instead waiting for the bard to move away. When he did move it wasn’t how geralt was expecting. Instead of dragging the bedroll back across to the other side of the fire pit, he instead shuffled down and curled in on himself, laying his head across Geralt’s thighs and using the witcher as a pillow.

Geralt stiffened, muscles locking up as his instincts warred between _safe_ and _caution_. When Jaskier brought up a hand to lay on Geralt’s knee and quickly drifted off to sleep the final settlement was on _safe_ , and he just sat watching Jaskier’s shoulders rise and fall with sleep steady breaths.

_He’s safe. Whatever the fuck this is, he is safe to be around._

Geralt smiled faintly and found himself drifting off to sleep himself.

\--

Despite having settled on deciding that he didn’t need to be wary around the very, _very,_ odd bard, Geralt did still find himself wanting to take notes on whatever new weird thing happened.

Really, Geralt was ashamed at himself for how long it took him to figure out this newest addition to the list of weird things about Jaskier that didn’t make sense.

His age.

Seem if Geralt was being honest, he would have to admit that he wasn’t very good with how humans aged. No, not just in a ‘oh how horrible, these fragile creatures die and I’m alive and youthful’ flowery poetic way that Jaskier had gone on about once. No it was also in a ‘I genuinely have no idea what humans are meant to look like at what age’.

In 70 years Geralt himself had aged by maybe 10 years? Perhaps 15? The white hair tended to make him look older, he recognised that much. Beyond that he was genuinely clueless to the number that a human would put on his age. And he would be just as clueless trying to figure out how old a human was. (He had human age down to basic categories: ‘child’, ‘idiot youth that think’s they are an adult but isn’t’, ‘adult’, ‘greying’, ‘dead’)

So it wasn’t his fault he didn’t pay attention to the fact that by the time they were nearing on two decades together that Jaskier had yet to visibly age. He looked the exact same as he had when they had first met eachother – and age which Jaskier had told him had been 18. The thing is that should now make Jaskier on the wrong side of 30 and rapidly rushing towards 40. (Geralt was pretty certain 40 fell within the ‘adult’ category of Human Ages for Oblivious Witchers)

It was spring and he had been traipsing for a good few weeks south, heading towards Oxenfurt to meet up with Jaskier for another year together. At some point it had just become normal for them to search eachother out instead of waiting for their paths to cross by chance (admittedly ‘chance’ happened very fucking often, but that was a coincidental issue for another day of thought). He had left Jaskier here to teach over the winter, some class on the appropriate writing of ballads. Usually they met outside of the city in a small village less than a day’s ride north of Oxenfurt but Geralt was earlier than usual this year and had decided to just head into the city proper to find Jaskier. Because yes it was a city, but really this was _Jaskier_ , he wasn’t hard to find. The loud voice, cheery disposition and bright smile that was only overtaken by the frankly blinding pigment of his clothes was something that you really couldn’t miss, even in the large grounds of Oxenfurt’s university.

Sure enough, it only took asking three citizens and a small group of students and he was quickly directed to a tavern that was most often frequented by liberal arts students and as a result was full of poetry readings and theatrics and upcoming bards. The perfect place to find Jaskier really. He saw Jaskier as soon as he walked in. He was in a bright doublet of purple with bright blue detailing and was sitting at a corner table working through some form of notes with a woman with red hair across from him. Geralt automatically found himself tuning out the rest of the tavern’s conversations to focus on theirs.

“How many more favours do you have to collect then?”

“I still have a few from when we were in university.”

“How on earth can you still have old classmates on that list?”

“I’m just that good, my dear. I helped a lot of people with a lot of problems. I’d rather not recall how many exams I helped the law students pass.”

“Hah! You’d think they’d know better than to deal with- oh, who’s that?”

The woman had caught the eye of Geralt from where he was stood eavesdropping as he waited for his pint of ale from the barkeep. Jaskier followed her gaze, his eyes instantly brightening.

“Geralt!” Jaskier very quickly stood from his table and made his way over with his usual saunter, “What are you doing here? We aren’t meant to meet for another week at the least!”

“Warm winter, the snow melted early.”

“And of course you just had to come see me!” Jaskier leant back on the bar beside Geralt, “I understand, it’s hard to be away from me so long, my magnetic charm always pulls you back in!” He put an arm over his forehead dramatically and sighed. The woman had followed Jaskier and couldn’t help laughing.

“Magnetic attraction? Pfft, yeah. Something like that.” She teased, Jaskier shot her an annoyed look and wrinkled his nose, “Planning on introducing us?” Jaskier instantly stopped pouting and waved an arm dramatically, gesturing to Geralt – Geralt rolled his eyes.

“Why of course, milady, this here is Geralt of Rivia, the White Wolf, Witcher and-“

“I do not need you giving me another dramatic name, Jaskier.” Geralt rumbled but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a smile.

“But who would flatter you then? Geralt this is Shani, we went to university together. She was studying medicine while I was doing the liberal arts. We both signed on as lecturers this semester, it’s the first time we’ve had so much time together since we graduated. So I apologise for not noticing your entrance.” Geralt looked to Shani as he introduced her. The woman was pretty, but very clearly edging from ‘adult’ to ‘greying’, a white streak prominent just behind her ear and in her fringe and then more white hairs streaking through her red hair. The corners of her eyes had the signs of wrinkles, crows feet beginning to show. Geralt dipped his head in greeting.

“Oh so this is the Witcher you talk so much about, you know when you said he was handsome I didn’t realise you meant-“

“Shani.” Jaskier warned, voice slightly lower than usual.

“I mean really, Jas, why haven’t you climbed him like a-“

“And that’s enough interaction between you two I think.” Jaskier cut in quickly, with a smile. “Besides – he’s far too old for you, Shani.”

“Pity.” She smiled impishly, “I’ll head off, I’m meant to be teaching a surgery class in the morning, I need to check my class notes. See you tomorrow, Jas.” Shani left with a wave of her hand. Geralt watched her leave with a barely hidden smirk.

“So...Climb me like a-?”

“Oh for fucks sake, Geralt, don’t you start.” Jaskier made a half hearted attempt at a glare but the amusement in his eyes showed that he was happy to see him, Geralt just gave his barely there smile.

“You described me as handsome, hm?” Geralt couldn't resist the chance to tease.

“Poetic license." Jaskier waved a hand dismissively but was trying to hide a small smile all the same, "I also made very clear that you are too old for Shani. Come on now, old man. Tell me about how the winter has been.” Jaskier led the way over to the table. The roll of paper Jaskier had been fussing with earlier was no where to be seen as Geralt followed him back to the table. Geralt was too preoccupied thinking of how few wrinkles or greys were on Jaskier compared to Shani to really notice the absence of the paper. They fell into a pleasant conversation anyway as Geralt attempted to piece together what this particular weird thing meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Confusion really is the dominant feature in this isn't it? Thanks so much for all the comments and kudos btw folks - it makes me happy! Jaskier is a bit less uh suspicious in this chapter, but it's still there. just hidden better.  
> Shani is a canon Witcher character, she appears in the books and the games and she is a surgeon, though I messed with a few details cause she wouldn't technically be the right age to have gone to university with Jaskier. But I'm the author and clearly Jaskier isn't exactly characterised as sticking with canon so hey lol  
> Next update will likely be Friday night or Saturday after my exam on Friday.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yantra is an odd town with an odder problem - Jaskier advises that it is a problem Geralt should stay far away from

Yantra was a small village comprising of a whole six buildings and some cows and goats. Which meant shit pay for a contract. All the same, the summer was sweltering and Geralt couldn’t be bothered to walk to a new town just to get better pay. The villagers claimed a werewolf problem and were worried about the upcoming full moon, but under their words there was an unmistakable undercurrent of fear.

“Well of course they’re scared, Geralt, it’s a werewolf!” Jaskier had laughed when Geralt rose his concern as they settled in a barn for the evening. There was no inn rooms for them in such a small village, but the night was warm and there was enough hay on the floor of the barn to make for a comfortable enough place to rest.

“I know that. I’m telling you there’s something else wrong here.” Geralt scowled at thin air, “They weren’t just scared of the wolf, they’re scared of something else. It’s like they want to hide something from me.”

Jaskier stayed quiet for a moment, making a show of thinking about Geralt’s words and tapping his chin thoughtfully, “Hm, well maybe I can see where you’re coming from. I guess they did all seem a little jumpy.” Jaskier suddenly shrugged, thoughtful air gone, “Or maybe this is just a backwater village that likes to be afraid of every new thing that passes through. Up here it’s just fields and wheat fucking everywhere. I’ve no idea how anyone can live up here.”

“Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Geralt hummed, letting the issue drop, “It’s another day until the first phase of the full moon. We’ll see after that.”

“You mean we need to stay here for another full day? Ugh, I doubt these people tip well. Is there even a tavern? Where will I play? What ever shall I do?”

Geralt tuned out Jaskier’s dramatics after that, though it did continue for a further hour of lamenting before he finally settled down for the night.

The next morning was spent hunting for further information and potion ingredients. Geralt left Jaskier in Yantra before midday, saying he was going in search of specific flowers that would only be available a little further west by the coast, leaving Jaskier with clear instructions to not cause trouble while he was gone. Jaskier had grumbled and moaned, ‘when am I ever causing trouble? I mean really, Geralt! Me? I’m as good as a-‘. Geralt had already rolled his eyes and walked away before he could finish his protests.

It was late afternoon before he returned with the necessary alchemy reagents in hand and he found Jaskier waiting for him by the crossroads on the outskirts of the town, leaning back against a willow tree and watching a group of children who were just a few feet away. Geralt slowed Roach as he approached, a little confused, if endeared, at the bard just standing watching the children. As he got closer he realised the children were singing, sitting in a circle at the bottom of a wooden pole. Jaskier raised one finger to his lips when Geralt shot him a look, Geralt raised an eyebrow at the instruction but obeyed all the same, taking care to be quiet as he walked to lean at Jaskier’s side beneath the tree.

“You were right,” Jaskier mumbled, just quiet enough to be unhearable to anyone without Geralt’s hearing, “They were trying to hide something from you.” Geralt looked down to furrow his brow in a question as to what the bard was talking about, Jaskier caught his gaze and nodded back to the kids, “Just listen.”

Geralt frowned but again he obeyed easily. The four kids were singing discordantly, even Geralt could tell they were out of tune, and happily swaying as they sat in their little circle.

_His smile fair as spring, as towards him he draws you_

_His tongue sharp and silvery, as he implores you_

_Your wishes he grants, as he swears to adore you_

_Gold, silver, jewels – he lays riches before you_

_Dues need be repaid, and he will come for you_

_All to reclaim, no smile to console you_

_He’ll snare you in bonds, eyes glowing’, a fire_

_To gore and torment you, till the stars expire_

“Bit of a violent end for a kids song.” Geralt hummed, looking to Jaskier he suddenly realised him and Jaskier were standing really very close, Geralt almost speaking into Jaskier’s ear. Neither made a move to take a step away however.

“Local legend,” Jaskier replied airily, “Turns out they do have a tavern.”

“Learn something I take it?”

“Of course.” Jaskier turned to smile, it was wicked and smug as if he was proving something, proud of his achievement, “What kind if bard would I be if I couldn’t get a story. “The legend is one I knew before. It’s common in these parts – and apparently true. Merchant of Mirrors.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Oh but you have no idea, my dear Witcher,” The wicked smile was back, “Think about those lyrics again, ‘ _Your wishes he grants, as he swears to adore you, Gold, silver, jewels – he lays riches before you, Dues need be repaid, and he will come for you.’_ Hear the important part of that?”

“Wishes.” Geralt huffed a heavy breath, _as if I haven’t dealt with enough wish shit in my life_ , “Why is this connected to the wolf? Who wishes to be a wolf?”

“I’m not certain the young man did. _‘Dues need be repaid’_? ‘ _His tongue sharp and silvery’_? I doubt it was meant to go like this. And from that young maiden's words, I dont think he is the one who did the wishing either. I think whatever wish was made had a bit of a loophole, wording does seem to be a tricky thing with these things, doesn’t it?” Jaskier spoke wistfully. Geralt almost flinched physically at the reminder of how one of his own wishes almost got the bard killed some years ago now. That was because of the wording too wasn’t it? Jaskier kept speaking, oblivious to Geralt's reaction to remembering the Djinn incident from years prior. "A wish granter did this, this Merchant of Mirrors. And I don't think it'll be a good ending for the soul of who made the wish. ' _He'll snare you in bonds, to gore and torment you, till the stars expire'_."

“So we kill the thing. Simple.” Geralt pushed off the tree, the hot summer afternoon was growing closer to evening and the light of the setting sun beginning to dye the fields orange, it wouldn’t be long until the moon came up and he had a werewolf to deal with. He was halted very suddenly by a hand on his bicep.

“Kill the wolf.” Jaskier said lowly, “Don’t get involved in this Merchant of Mirrors business though. Just the wolf.”

“Jaskier, if he caused the werewolf then-“

“Geralt.” Jaskier’s tone surprised him, it was darker than usual, a commanding air that Geralt didn’t hear from him…well, ever actually, even his eyes seemed to darken - a trick of the light surely, “The people didn’t want you to know. They don’t want help for this. Leave them to their customs. The man who wished for this did it for a reason, just as the man who is cursed is for a reason. Lets leave it at that, hm?” Jaskier held Geralt’s stare, unwilling to backdown. Geralt had a feeling this was a show of dominance he might lose. Just as Geralt found himself getting slightly lost in the eyes of his opponent in the impromptu staring contest Jaskier blinked, pulling back and smiling. “Besides. We aren’t being paid.” The seriousness broke as suddenly as it came on, a sudden cheer breaking out on Jaskier’s face, the blue eyes now glinting in the orange evening light, “A Witcher doesn’t work for free, right?” Jaskier winked, “I’ll be at the tavern waiting for you, I’m not staying in that barn in the open on the full moon with a werewolf about – no sir-ee! I’ll buy you a pint when you get back.” And just like that he walked off, bounce in his step and a casual wave as he made his way into the village and left Geralt thoroughly confused. And despite it all – he had to admit, he trusted Jaskier’s judgement on this. He shook all thoughts of the unusual wish granter from his head and made off for the barn they had slept in to grab his potions he had brewed in the morning, and then it was off to hunt a werewolf.

The werewolf put up a mean fight and the battle left Geralt tired and panting but very alive, no major wounds. Just one very minor twisted ankle from where he had lost his balance. True to his word Jaskier was waiting with a drink in hand when he came back to the tavern, werewolf head in hand. He never did get the full story of whatever had truly happened in the small village, though come morning Jaskier gave him just one slightly cryptic line.

“I promise you, Geralt, he deserved it. The man acted like an animal, that girl will be glad he met his fate like one.”

Geralt nodded and accepted it.

When they walked out of Yantra they passed the kids at the odd crossroads altar, singing again. Geralt felt uneasy seeing it, wondering if he was making the right choice leaving it alone.

“Stop thinking about it.” Jaskier was watching out the corner of his eye, “We’d be best to just leave. Beside, that rhyme has awful composition. I mean really! It just keeps rhyming ‘you’ with ‘you’. Have some creativity. When I meet the colleague of mine responsible for that I have some harsh words for him, believe you me!” Jaskier started singing something new, it had a similar cadence to the rhyme but the lyrics were very different, as if Jaskier was trying to improve them. It also rhymed better.

“Colleague?” Geralt cut in, interrupting his composing.

“Of course. The other bard. Who else writes these songs?”

“Hm.” Geralt nodded, a note of disbelief ringing in his ears, Jaskier had already been too insightful about this whole situation - perhaps, no. That would be ridiculous.

“So where to next?” Jaskier's sunny smile and twirling steps as he danced around the path infront of Roach, lute in hand, made Geralt smile, _ah who cares what he is anyway_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is largely based on a quest from the Witcher 3 game, and the rhyme the kids sing is also from that quest. And yes it really is quite dark, as those last few lyrics suggest. It's actually the quest I was playing through last weekend which is what inspired all this mess. Cause it is probably just a mess of spelling and grammar issues - I'm so sorry. I dont have a beta for these things and I barely proof read.  
> On another note - Thanks so much for all the comments guys! And for the luck on my German exam - I did well, I got a high A. Which means now I have the time to write without so much stress! I don't know when the next chapter will be up but I hope soon! I'm about to start on it as soon as this is posted. Thanks for reading <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier has good instincts for when a hunt will be dangerous - Geralt doesn't always heed his warnings. His mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any typos - this was written at an even weirder time than I usually write (I started writing around 5am and its almost 7am - I have not slept.) Longer chapter today - around 3000 words - hope no one minds that.

Geralt wasn’t sure if it was something related to whatever it was that Jaskier was (Geralt had his bets on some form of mage or possibly siren, it would make the most sense with his voice) but he had excellent instincts. Usually Jaskier didn’t voice these instincts Geralt had realised but since the incident in Yantra he had become more vocal about when he thought something was a bad idea. It wasn’t particularly major. Honestly if it weren’t for everything else that was off about the bard then Geralt wouldn’t think anything of it. It was simple, uttered words before a hunt or passing comments that became incredibly relevant within the day.

 _‘Watch your back out there’_ before a contract on some ghouls, sure enough right when he thought the hunt was over a ghoul that had apparently decided to climb a fucking tree decided to leap at his back. Geralt suffered a nasty bite in the back of his neck for that. Jaskier had just shook his head and started fussing, ‘ _I did tell you to watch your back’_.

‘ _Take the gold potion with you’_ when he was leaving on a simple Nekker job. Geralt had to do a double take and scowl, his gold potion was for treating poisons – nekkers weren’t poisonous. And yet he obeyed, considering last time he got bitten for not heeding the bard’s advice. And lo and behold, a basilisk decided to ruin his day – a creature with terrible venom that could slow even Geralt’s Witcher enhanced body. The golden oriole potion probably saved him passing out from the venom in the middle of the forest.

Sometimes it was far more subtle. He'd suggested Geralt buy a new cloak even though his current one was still just fine, ' _you never know when it could meet an unfortunate end_ '. The old cloak had been torn to shreds by a Fiend the next day. Jaskier had just smiled sweetly as he tok the new cloack from Roach's saddlebags and handed it over. Geralt had just gotten it wrapped around him when the rain began to fall. Within minutes it was bouncing off of the ground with the force with which it fell from the heavens. The new cloak was warm and protected him from the rain. _'How lucky'_ Jaskier had grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges with the smile.

So Geralt added apparent precognition to his mental list of Jaskier’s traits. Listening to him seemed to be a good idea.

For this reason, Geralt entirely blamed himself when later on, on a chilly autumn day in a cold damp crypt, he didn’t listen.

“Geralt, I am telling you, something here doesn’t feel right.” Jaskier was following with quick, half jogging steps, reluctant to allow Geralt to get any more than a few feet away. The wood they had been directed to for this contract had a naturally eerie air to it. The single path was half overgrown, with branches reaching out like grasping hands and snagging on Jaskier’s clothes and Geralt’s hair. Mist rolled in thick clouds and obscured the path a few meters ahead. The trees warped around the path, arcing overhead and obscuring the sky entirely. Geralt had to admit Jaskier was right – this forest certainly didn’t feel quite right. His medallion confirmed his suspicions, humming at his chest and alerting him to some form of magic nearby.

The contract had detailed travellers in the woods being attack, going missing from the trail, never to return. The few people who had returned were pale and swore the woods warped around them, turning the travellers back on themselves and leading them in circles. Lights in the fog seemed to call to them, survivors swore they could hear the voices of other lost villagers calling to them through the fog, begging them to come off the path and into the trees because they were lost. Animals didn’t venture into the woods, instead preferring to remain in what should have been the more dangerous outskirts of the woods. Other animals were found dead, drained of blood but not lacking in meat. They hadn’t been killed for food – or at least not the usual kind of food. There were reports of Nekker tracks. Signs of vampires feeding. The tricks of a mage or of fey and dryads. The mist of Foglets, creatures which dwelled in the fog and led travellers off the path by perfectly mimicking their prey’s voices and into their grip to become the new prey. There were too many possibilities, too many traces of evidence and yet nothing solid and set in stone.

Geralt had decided early that he really would have no choice but to grin and bear the very real possibility of going into a major fight unprepared. All he had gotten from the villagers was that there was an old cemetery in the centre of the woods, if anything beastly was going to be anywhere – try there. Geralt had to admit it seemed like a solid assumption, but it was still uncomfortable. The only direction he had been given was ‘ _follow the path. It doesn’t lead anywhere else. Usually_.’

Geralt and Jaskier had returned to their rented room both irritated and confused.

“I’ll just need to go in.”

“What-? Geralt, no!” Jaskier sounded horrified.

“What else can I do here Jaskier?”

“You never go into a hunt unprepared – an unprepared Witcher is-“

“Is a dead one. Yeah, I know. I’m the one that told you that.” Geralt had to smile slightly at the fact Jaskier had not only listened but remembered one of Vesemir’s lessons which he had passed on to the bard.

“Yes, well clearly you need to be reminded because you are forgetting your own rules, Geralt! To go in there with no idea of what you are going to find would be suicide!”

“I’m not completely in the dark. I know theres drained bodies. That suggest vampire. Tracks suggest Nekker, fog is Foglets. I know enough.”

“We do not in any way know enough information for this, what are you going to do? Go carrying every potion you have on hand and pray that it’s enough?” Jaskier had gone slightly red in the face from shouting. Geralt tried very hard not to allow his voice to raise in turn.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” He turned away from the bard so he didn’t need to watch the anger and worry on Jaskier’s face. He struggled to deny the fact he found it endearing when Jaskier worried about him – he also hated seeing Jaskier look that way, usually it came right before an expression of pain and the smell of fear when Geralt’s came back from a hunt covered in blood and injured. Geralt busied himself with checking his potion supplies. Golden Oriole for curing poison. Swallow for promoting healing. Blizzard for an adrenaline rush. Tawny Owl for stamina. He knew Jaskier found the names of all of his potions amusing, recently he had even been trying to write some form of ballad based around the names and the potion effects. The thought of Jaskier trying to learn something so important to Geralt made him smile, even now.

Jaskier wasn’t smiling. Geralt could feel the anger and fear and worry radiating off of him, the smell was sour and hung heavy in the air. “Fine. If you’re so set on this, there’s no way you’re going alone.”

“Jas, no. You aren’t-“

“I’m coming with you.” Jaskier’s words were stubborn. Geralt felt Jaskier step up behind him, close and in his space. Geralt turned to face him, coming almost nose to nose with the slightly shorter bard.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“Then why are you going?”

“Because it’s my job.”

“It’s my job too.”

“To get yourself killed?”

“To stop _you_ getting _yourself_ killed!”

“I can’t risk you, Jaskier.”

“You think I can risk you, Geralt?”

They stood quiet for a long couple of minutes. Gold eyes held blue, neither backing down from their staring contest. Jaskier had won the last one in Yantra, Geralt knew. He also had a horrible feeling his unusual bard would win this one too. Geralt was finding it harder and harder to deny the bard anything with every passing day. The witcher observed Jaskier, searching for any sign of weakness, any sign he would back down from this. Jaskier’s shoulders rose and fell heavily with his breathing, sped up by anger. His eyes blazed with rage brought on by fear – fear for Geralt. And, _gods,_ wasn’t that still so absurd. Someone scared for his wellbeing, for the wellbeing of a mutant. It was a dizzying thing that never failed to make Geralt’s breath hitch slightly.

Jaskier was the one to break the silence.

“I have a bad feeling about this. I’m not leaving you alone,” Geralt opened his mouth to argue but Jaskier silenced him immediately with a finger to his lips. Geralt was too shocked by the bard’s hand on his face to actually speak. “There’s no argument here. _We_ are going _together._ ”

Geralt took a few long breaths. Jaskier wasn’t going to cave. Geralt cursed as he gave in.

“Fuck. Fine. But only because I don’t want you out of my sight. This whole town is weird, not just the woods.”

Jaskier nodded slowly, an acceptance and a thank you, “At sunrise?”

“At sunrise.”

They found the cemetery eventually. It was hidden deep in the woods – too deep to surely be an effective cemetery. Did the locals really have to bring their dead an hour’s walk away every time someone was to be buried?

“I feel like this journey took longer than it should have…” Jaskier sounded unnerved. Geralt had to agree, and hummed to make his agreement clear.

“Hmm. Stay behind me, Jas. Need to check out that crypt but I don’t want to leave you alone out here.” There was an unspoken question in that, a request and an inquiry – _how much do you trust me? Enough to walk straight into potential danger? Danger behind us, danger in front – are you really sure you still trust me?_

“I’ll come with you.” Jaskier hadn’t hesitated at all in his answer, simply pushing himself close to the witcher until they were almost touching. _I trust you_ , he answered.

The crypt in question stood in the centre of the decrepit graveyard. The stones marking the graves of the long dead were untended, half broken and overtaken by moss, some fallen entirely. The crypt looked no better. It was large, larger than most rooms would be, certainly large enough to suggest that it went further beneath the ground, possibly even sprawling out into branching rooms below their feet, hidden far beneath the earth. It was covered in vines. One particular tree had begun to grow into one of the windows, branches curving and curling around the iron bars of the small western window and reaching into the dark within. Bushes at the doorway grew over the steps which led to a patterned iron gate. It was half off of its hinges. It looked as if it had been thrown open by something strong. Geralt could feel Jaskier’s apprehension as he stuck close behind him. They took steady steps up to the gate and just before crossing the threshold Geralt felt the slightest brush of Jaskier’s fingers across his free hand. It pushed Geralt on.

It was a shitty fucking mistake to not have listened to Jaskier’s worries. It was a chilly autumn day and he didn’t listen and now Jas’ blood would be on his hands. It was going to end in a cold, damp, dark crypt below the ground.

Geralt shoved Jaskier through a door gated similarly to the entrance above ground. His heart was thudding fast – almost at the speed of a human’s. Jaskier’s heart was rabbit quick. As soon as Jaskier was inside, Geralt followed, gripping and dragging the iron gate behind him to close them into the small room, one of the branching rooms Geralt had correctly guessed laid beneath the cemetery. Geralt had barely the time to snap the handle of the gate in such a way as to jam it shut when the Katakan they had been outrunning slammed against it. The bars buckled slightly, bowing inwards at the pressure. Geralt’s eyes widened at the show of strength. He cast a sign on the door quickly, the same sign he had used years ago while trying to save a Striga born of a royal princess. The energy flashed over the door, creating a magical barrier. Geralt backed up away from the snarling Katakan. It was a horrible thing. Human in height but with a face that resembled a leaf nosed bat, but much, much uglier. Its nose upturned, long ears stretched straight out to the sides far wider than the width of it’s shoulders, claws the size of daggers and just as sharp on each finger. These were where the connection of vampires to bats came from. Human fear incarnate. And somehow, not the most pressing issue.

Geralt kept backing up until he could feel Jaskier press against his back. He reached back with his free hand in a protective gesture around his bard, his silver sword firmly gripped in his right hand, watching that door that was the only way in. And of course, their only way out.

The chamber outside was large. Geralt could only watch as the slower of the monsters that had pursued them caught up and joined the Katakan in waiting. Two Ekimmara’s – much like the Katakan, but somehow uglier. A Garkain – a horrifyingly ugly lesser vampire that was known for being so ugly they could be mistaken for a gargoyle from the way they lurked on rooftops, watching, waiting, stalking prey. Three Foglets, phasing in and out of visibility, the goblin like creatures dissolving into mist as they stalked back and forth in the large chamber. A clan of Nekkers. A group of Alps – human female looking vampires with pointed ears like elves, and more concerning – they’re intelligent. And lastly, a Bruxa, standing at the front of them all. She looked similar to the Alps, feminine and beautiful, if it weren’t for the fangs then one could mistake her for human. She stood as the leader in front of the rest of the group of assorted monsters, even the Katakan which had been attempting to bash down the spelled gate moved for her.

“So, come to ruin my little project?” She spoke the common tongue, though something in her voice gave away that it wasn’t a natural language for her to speak, the syllables dragging out uncomfortably in all the wrong places. Geralt didn’t answer her. Even Jaskier remained uncharacteristically quiet, “Not talkers? We are supporters of communication here. I will make us the owners of this continent.” She stalked closer, clawed fingers reaching out to drag along the damaged iron bars, “That spell will not save you for long. You will buckle and bend.” She smiled, a cruel upturn of the lips that showed long fangs that seemed permanently stained red – either that or she had eaten very recently. Neither were pleasant thoughts.

“Geralt…” Jaskier spoke lowly, keeping his voice quiet but there was a slight shake to it.

“She’s right. I can’t hold the spell forever.” Geralt forced the words out. He wasn’t happy but it was true. And as soon as it fell…

The herd of monsters were prowling outside of the door, waiting for their meal to be served. Geralt understood the chances of getting out of this.

“Geralt, you’re not serious, are you?” Geralt didn’t need to look round to know the look that would be on Jaskier’s face. Fear. Pain. Betrayal. Realisation. He trusted the wrong Witcher. Geralt bit down hard on his own tongue. “You are. We aren’t getting out of this.” Jaskier huffed out a sharp breath with an emotion Geralt couldn't identify. He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to identify.

“I’m sorry, Jas.” Geralt closed his eyes, allowing himself just one more moment to breathe Jaskier’s scent, clove and orange. It calmed him despite everything. “Do you have a silver dagger still?” He knew Jaskier used to carry one in his boot. From the movement behind him and an affirmative hum it seemed he still did.

It wouldn't help him. Not really. These were higher vampires and lesser vampires and assorted beasts that would give Geralt a challenge separately. Together? In this confined space? Geralt couldn't fight his way out of this. He certainly couldn't protect Jaskier. And Jaskier couldn't protect himself against creatures of this level. 

They were fucked. The spell would drop sooner or later. If Geralt tried to hold it for too long it would exhaust him. Then he'd be unable to fight at all. For a brief moment a horrible thought crossed his mind - _would it be kinder for Jaskier to fall to Geralt's own sword than be torn apart by monsters_? The thought instantly made him want to vomit. 

“Why do you not drop this spell now? Make this fast for us both.” The Bruxa sounded teasing. _She’s playing with her food_. Geralt grit his teeth. He opened his mouth to deny, to say he would hold until the vampires (and company) got bored. He knew they wouldn't get bored but he would say it. He'd lie for the bard's sake.

He didn’t get to say it. Jaskier stepped out from behind him, silver dagger in hand.

“Do it Geralt.”

“Jas?”

“No need to prolong this right?” Jaskier flashed a sad looking smile that looked very wrong on him. That wasn’t the bard. He was meant to be happy, too gleeful for his own good, capable of surviving everything he shouldn’t, on occasion terrifyingly dark and calm and radiating energy Geralt couldn’t place. He wasn’t meant to be sad smiles.

“Sure about this?” Geralt held his gaze. Jaskier’s eyes darkened slightly, looking more a dark grey than cornflower blue. There was something horrible about that, Geralt thought. This place had darkened even his bard's eyes. A bitter laugh huffed from Jaskier's lungs, a feral snarl curling on his lips. Geralt almost felt proud that he wasn't going to give in easily.

“Oh, _fuck it_. Let’s get this over with.”

Geralt raised his hand to drop the spell which guarded the door, ignoring the toothy snarl of the Bruxa who looked far too pleased. And then she lunged.

Geralt saw the flash of silver of his own sword as he brought it up to guard. Saw Jaskier raise his unarmed hand, fingers outstretched and palm out. Saw the Katakan dive for Jaskier’s neck. Geralt tried to shout. He wanted to save him. Couldn’t. Didn’t want to have to see this. He couldn't. It couldn't end like this. It would. It's going to- It-

He tried not the focus on the blood that hung in the air. Reached for something – anything else. A smell of spice and sweet and a chord of _something_ sounding in the air.

And there was a flash of blue, pale light that overtook everything else. His medallion buzzed from it's spot over his heart.

Geralt closed his eyes and waited for the blows that would surely kill him. Waited for the scream from Jaskier. Waited for…waited. And waited. And…nothing.

“Well. Bollocks.” 

Geralt opened his eyes at the voice that was not his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhh, cliff-hanger? Sorry?  
> I have a university essay due in 14 hours and I wrote this instead. Ahh the life of a student eh?  
> We got a bit dramatic this chapter. Hope you all managed to follow along well enough - I'm not the best at building any form of suspense but I swear I tried at the end there. I'll try not to keep you waiting for the next chapter! Drop me a comment if you enjoyed, tell me your thoughts, impressions, keyboard smash if you like - all comments make me happy! Maybe it'll help get me through this essay lol  
> (Oh and question, what other tags should I have added to this? And is the summary alright? I'm shit at writing summaries. )


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys survive - much to Geralt's surprise. Jaskier's inhumanity is fully revealed.

He tried not the focus on the blood that hung in the air. Reached for something – anything else. A smell of spice and sweet and a chord of _something_ sounding in the air.

And there was a flash of blue, pale light that overtook everything else. His medallion buzzed from it's spot over his heart.

Geralt closed his eyes and waited for the blows that would surely kill him. Waited for the scream from Jaskier. Waited for…waited. And waited. And…nothing.

“Well. Bollocks.” 

Geralt opened his eyes. To be honest that was shocking in and of itself. He hadn’t exactly expected to open his eyes ever again. He had expected to be Bruxa bait by now. Opening his eyes had a frankly terrifying side effect though. As in, he, a Witcher, almost a century old and trained and mutated beyond even fellow witchers, was _scared._

Suspended in the air the Bruxa who had leapt at him still hung there. Frozen. Behind her the foglets were frozen, half materialised, half fog which didn’t roll. It just sat. Completely frozen. The Alps. The Garkain, Ekimmaras, the nekkers. All frozen.

He jumped backwards, adrenaline shooting through him, ready for a fight, ready to defend. But they were just there. Suspended in time. With panicked eyes he remembered what made him open his eyes in the first place.

_Jaskier._

Geralt’s vision darted over to his left where Jaskier was currently frowning at the frozen Katakan. It had frozen with its jaws and claws locked around Jaskier’s arm.

“This was a nice doublet.” He sighed dramatically, his voice far lighter than anyone who had vampire claws and fangs in his arm should be. “I mean really, it’s just rude to ruin such excellent craftsmanship.” Jaskier’s blasé attitude did not extend to Geralt.

“Jas! Jas, don’t move! Are you…?” Geralt reached out shakily, unsure. Jaskier’s eyes flicked up to meet Geralt’s. His eyes were that darker grey that Geralt kept seeing and kept passing off as a trick of the light. Geralt got the feeling Jaskier was looking for something in his own yellow eyes, Geralt wasn’t certain if he found what he was looking for however. Jaskier’s expression was more guarded than usual until he spoke.

“Quite alright.” Jaskier offered an insincere looking smile that looked more sad than anything else. Geralt reached out to help pry the Katakan away from Jaskier’s arm, he didn’t know what had frozen these things and how long it would last. He wanted to get Jaskier out, _now_. As he reached out he watched as Jaskier shook his head slightly, raising his other hand in a ‘stop’ motion, “No need, my dear Witcher.”

And in ribbons of light blue smoke he blinked out of existence. Almost instantly he blinked back, reappearing in those same streaks of smoke just a meter or so further back from where he had been before. The Katakan was still frozen, jaws clamped around thin air where Jaskier’s arm had been. Geralt just blinked dumbly. Jaskier was examining Geralt’s features again and this time Geralt was certain he didn’t like what he saw because there wasn’t any happiness that should have been in the once blue now grey eyes.

“I’m sorry, Geralt. I didn’t want to lie.” That sad smile was back. He looked away, unwilling to hold eye contact with the witcher, brushing at his lapis blue doublet instead and picking at the torn silk threads.

Silence between the two was a rare thing. Geralt quickly realise he didn’t like blessed silence very much at all. Jaskier continued to refuse to look up or offer anything else to say.

“What are you?” Geralt finally said after the seconds began to stretch uncomfortably. Jaskier just shook his head.

“No time for that. I am a very powerful man but even I cannot hold this many creatures frozen at once for long. I’m afraid we can’t spend time talking.” A long tired sigh left his lips.

Now that Jaskier had said it Geralt noticed the way the bard (not bard? Maybe bard?) shook where he stood, knees seeming to struggle to hold his weight. A slight tremor in his hands. The silver dagger still in his left hand looked in danger of slipping from his fingertips.

“Be a dear and start beheading before my powers give up, would you?” The smile looked less sad and more weak now. Geralt just nodded, still lost for words. Words always seemed to fail him – those were Jaskier’s specialty. Geralt was good at this though. He adjusted his grip on his silver sword and quickly began work dealing with the assortment of monsters. Turns out fighting higher vampires and creatures which can literally disappear into thin air is easier if they’re frozen by an incredibly powerful…something.

It was a little offputting to swing your sword through something and the creature not move. Even once the head was severed – he could see the through the neck for goodness sake – the things just continued to stay stuck in place. The heads just sort of…floating there. It all felt very wrong. When he finished off the last Nekker he turned to see Jaskier just standing, watching him, leaning back against the wall in a way that was meant to look casual, looking down at his dagger and using it to pick dirt out from under his nails.

“Thank you for that.” Before Geralt asked what for he jumped as the Nekker’s body moved. As every single body moved. Suddenly every previously immobile monster dropped to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut. “I really wouldn’t have been able to do that for long.” He breathed heavily, tired smile tugging at his lip. He seemed to be leaning more heavily on that wall behind him now.

“Jas, how does your power work? A mage shouldn’t exhaust so much energy so fast – you could kill yourself.” Geralt felt the spark of fear flit through his blood – _oh fuck, what if Jaskier just burnt himself out magically just to save my ass? It’ll be my fault_.

Jaskier chuckled lowly, “I’m not a mage, no need to worry about that. There’s no price to pay for my chaos as a mage would. Or at least, no price that I personally pay. But I’m glad to see you care. I admit I am more than a little tired though.” With a deep breath he pushed himself off of the crypt wall with some effort, something in Geralt wanted to run over and put an arm around him to help him, “There’s no threat left. The woods should even return to normal without so an inhumans in one place. So many supernatural beings warped the woods – it wasn’t the work of a mage. More likely this place used to have elven inhabitants. The lingering magic in the earth reacted to all the monsters and created the labyrinth of the woods. I could feel it was as soon as we got here. Once I saw the vampires I figured it out completely.” He explained stiffly, not in the lilting tone of a story he would usually tell, “I shouldn’t have let you come, but what’s done is done. This place is safe. You can get your payment now.”

Geralt couldn't figure out what to say - if there even was anything to say. He was shit at words, he knew that. He barely even was capable of holding a conversation before Jaskier had come along. He cursed his own lack of ability to know the right words for the situation. Jaskier frowned, apparently dissatisfied with the silence.

“I’ll leave now. Time for me to run, I think. Before you run me through.” He raised an eyebrow and nodded towards Geralt’s silver sword still in his hand. Geralt flicked his gaze down to the sword. _He think’s I’ll kill him? Why would he-?_

Geralt dropped the sword. Witcher instincts screamed at him that it was wrong, _that he was disarmed_. But then again, Witcher instincts had been screaming at him that something was wrong ever since he had started to suspect the bard wasn’t human. Hell, from the first day a young bard skipped over to him in Posada his medallion had ever so lightly hummed that Jaskier wasn’t quite right. This wasn’t the first time his instincts warned him about Jaskier. It never stopped him before, and it certainly wouldn’t now. He was trying to show he wasn’t a threat, his conscious thoughts caught up to that little nugget of information long after his silver had clattered on the stone below. He raised his now empty hands in a show of…something. Peace? No Witchers weren’t peaceful. Surrender? Maybe – though really something in Geralt doubted that Jaskier would be in any real danger from a Witcher. Or at least, not if he wasn’t exhausted. Jaskier looked paler than he had before, a slight grey tint to his skin showing. He still looked wary, eyes looking down to the sword now on the floor, back up to Geralt, and back down again. _Gods he really does expect me to stab him like a common monster._

“I won’t- I wouldn’t- Jaskier, please.” Geralt wasn’t even entirely sure what he was asking for. Jaskier seemed to understand anyway, replying with a shake of his head and a mirthless smile.

“It’s alright. I need to go back to work anyway, Witcher, lest I run out of power entirely. I have deals to make and favours and wishes to grant.” His eyes glowed just for a second in the dull light of the underground crypt, he laid the silver dagger down gently, “You can’t be there for that. Goodbye, Geralt of Rivia, The White Wolf. I think you may be the most interesting man I’ve ever met in my long life.”

Geralt saw the blue ribbons beginning to form and he wished he was faster than whatever the fuck Jaskier was, wished he was fast enough to catch him. But it was like trying to catch smoke in his hands. He just slipped away.

Geralt swore. He cursed the damned bard.

Was he fuck getting away with that! Jaskier, Julien Alfred _fucking_ Pankratz was not, in any way, getting to just leave like that!

Geralt swore again as he saw Jaskier’s dagger left in the corner of the crypt. Geralt snatched it up with a snarl, it was a fancy thing with an engraved hilt. Geralt had bought the dagger for him years ago and Jaskier had barely ever drawn it from his boot since – but he always cared for the blade. It still shone and glinted like new. Geralt’s grip tightened around the dagger until his knuckles turned white.

Was he angry at the bard for leaving? Or angry at himself for the fact that Jaskier apparently thought so little of him that he thought Geralt was going to kill him at the first opportunity?

Geralt tried not to think on it further. He was collecting his fucking pay, and then he was finding his damned bard.

Minus one bard and plus one new dagger hung at his hip he stormed out of the crypt. The walk through the woods took far less time now that the whole forest wasn't cursed. A huddle of townsfolk were waiting for him at the end of the road - he really didn't want to talk to them. The townsfolk obviously made their assumptions when he came back with nothing remaining of the bard they knew had left with him. A number of the villagers tried to offer some form of condolence – it only earned them a growl. Jaskier wasn’t dead – _he wasn’t_ fucking _dead._

Within an hour Geralt had gathered their things from the rented room they had left their clothes in and Jaskier had left his lute in, mounted up Roach and was ready to leave, all of Jaskier’s stuff still in the saddlebags and waiting for him to come the fuck back. Geralt ran his fingers over the lute before setting off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jaskier literally just teleporting out of difficult situations. I wish I could do that.  
> Sorry folks - we dont completely find out what Jas is this chapter! But hey! At least we're all alive and mostly well. Even if the boys are now separated. Next chapter - the hunt for Jaskier. How do you find someone powerful enough to completely freeze time for a whole room of vampires? And who can teleport away? Geralt better figure it out soon.  
> This fic has gotten a little out of control - it wasn't meant to be this long I swear! And it just keeps getting longer! I guess that's what quarantine boredom will do to you.  
> Drop a comment if you enjoyed! I reply to pretty much everyone (when I remember to)! <3  
> Oh and not sure I mentioned it last chapter but all those monsters were from the Witcher games, most of them are just types of vampires - I actually find Katakans, the thing that bit Jas, quite cute. My brother thinks I'm insane, he does not agree that they are cute.
> 
> Edit: Okay someone in the comments said Jaskier was just as emotionally constipated teleporting out of this and I just had to write a mini chapter from Jas' POV - so next chapter isn't the reveal, it'll be more like a chapter 5.5


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Think of this as a chapter 5.5 - a mini chapter looking at Jaskier's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it was mentioned in the comments that Jaskier was just as emotionally constipated as Geralt for just teleporting out of a difficult situation and I immediately started to furiously type up this mini chapter. So here for one night only - Jaskier's POV

Jaskier cursed vehemently as he landed on the crossroads just outside of the town they had accepted this damned job from in the first place – he couldn’t teleport too far at once. If he had been able he would already be on the other side of the damn continent. Maybe even further.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid fucking vampire fucking crypt.”

A nearby bush burst into flames.

“Oh, yes, fine. I get the point. I’ll calm down.” He spoke aloud to himself, his nose twitching with his annoyance. His cursing quieted down to more of a grumble, in languages including but not limited to the common speech and elder speech. And quite a few that Jaskier was pretty certain had been extinct for more than a few centuries. He was too annoyed at himself to really think about that.

He had known from the moment they stepped into that town that the woods were emanating some kind of energy that even set him on edge – which was really saying something. He felt happier knowing Master Mirror, the Merchant of fucking Mirrors was close back in Yantra. And by the gods he hated that damn trickster. A dirty cheat if you asked Jaskier.

Stepping foot into the woods had been like a pressure pushing down on his skin, constricting his chest. It was elder – but not. The reawakening of old elven blood staining the earth.

And then when they went down into the crypt he knew for certain he’d made an awful mistake for allowing this to go on so long. Allowing all of it to go on so long. This job. This identity. The lies to Geralt. Just thinking about him made the already rather burned bush nearby threaten to light again.

“Bloody hell.”

Jaskier glared at the puttering spark of a fire trying to start until it had the good grace to stop.

He would have to move soon. He knew that. Geralt would come through this crossroads to leave the town – it was the only way out after all. And when he did…

_When he does he’s going to stick that sword through you, you idiot._

_Geralt kills monsters. What are you if not a monster? Oh, and add liar to that. Geralt also hates liars - funny that._

He sighed.

How long had this little act being going on anyway? Two decades? Maybe a little more? He had only meant to wander with the Witcher for a little while – a week or two maybe. He had just been curious. Even in his own long life he had never had the chance to deal with Witchers. (Usually because they had the good sense to not voice their wishes to things like Jaskier).

But Geralt had just been so interesting! And – well – he had just finished a couple of years of making deals almost non-stop. There were hundreds of humans out there marked by him – fuelling his energy pool. He had the energy to waste – he could manage another month or so playing the weak human bard that really he wished he could have been.

And a week became a month, which became a year, which became a decade, and then there was a child surprise and a witch and – well, then it was just too late to stop pretending wasn’t it? He couldn’t bear the thought of Geralt finding out after so many good years on the road. It had all been so fun! He had been getting bored – that’s why he had decided to play as a bard studying in the university in the first place – every new face and every new wish was just getting stale. Geralt certainly fixed that problem.

And if along the way he got a little – ahem – _enamoured_ then that was just part of the hapless bard act, right?

After a decade he accepted that Geralt couldn’t ever know. And thankfully the man was as dumb as a rock sometimes. All that knowledge of every monster in every dark corner of the continent and the man couldn’t recognise the bard not aging even as it was right in front of his nose. Though these past few months Jaskier had to admit he had stopped hiding quite so carefully – he had mentioned tiny bits of information when he got that slight psychic hit of energy that alerted him that Geralt could get hurt today. Oh and he used it for the more selfish purposes. Because fuck getting caught in the rain without a cloak. It was a perfectly acceptable use of nigh infinite power, thank you very much.

But he couldn’t let Geralt get hurt.

He just had to blow his cover for the damned Witcher.

It had been Geralt’s voice, the resignation, that had broken Jaskier in the end. If he was being smart he would have just left the Witcher to die. Then Jaskier would have been completely safe and could have kept doing his business in relative secrecy and it would have all been fine.

Now he was certain a Witcher was coming to try and remove him from the continent. And the most horrible thing – Jaskier wasn’t sure if it would work. He was difficult to kill, he knew that. but he didn't exactly test it. That wasn't a particular issue he planned on testing. He had been stabbed before – sure. He “ _died_ ”. But it was fine. He got better. But silver? Beheading? That was enough to make Jaskier squirm because he really didn’t know if that was survivable – even by him.

_‘I can’t hold the spell forever. I’m sorry, Jas.’_

That broke Jaskier’s resolve. Geralt was already blaming himself for Jaskier’s imminent but not really death. Because the man cared – fuck that ‘witchers don’t feel’ nonsense.

And suddenly he was using his powers to a level he hadn’t used in decades – freezing time in the whole damn area just to save his Witcher. He burnt out most of the energy he had saved up.

And now he felt sick and weak and he just knew he had to run. He had to get away from Geralt. He didn’t want to see the disappointment and horror on Geralt’s face when he explained what he was. When Geralt learned of all those horrible lies that Jaskier had been telling for years. Maybe Jaskier would have even let Geralt behead him because he sort of deserved it didn’t he?

Jaskier barked out a hollow laugh.

“How fucking poetic. Centuries of life. Centuries of surviving. And this is what kills me. Falling for a damned mark.” He shook his head at himself, “Should have just killed him in Posada.” He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t even force any true violence into the words.

He cursed a few more times. He had to leave now. Teleporting home would take a lot of work – and then he was going to have to do a fuck tonne more work to make up for all the expended energy. With a flicking movement of his wrist a roll of parchment appeared in his hand in a puff of smoke, on it was names written in his own loopy, elegant writing.

_Perhaps there’s a favour I can call in on the way home._

And he disappeared in a streak of blue smoke.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay now this time for sure, next chapter is the reveal. I'm sorry the idea just struck me like a damned rock to the head once it was brought up in the comments of last chapter. So, there we go. A mini chapter following some of Jaskier's thoughts on the whole business.  
> Besides, writing Jaskier is fun.  
> Leave a comment if you liked it - love hearing from you all <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Geralt heads to Oxenfurt to find Jask, and get's some advice from a friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so fucking sorry this took so long, it was exam season in uni and I just didn't have the time! But here's 1300 words!

Oxenfurt.

That was his first (and best) guess.

Geralt pushed Roach to ride as long as he dared without hurting the poor horse. She had pulled and tugged against her reins when Geralt had tried to lead her out of town. It was almost as if she noticed the absence of Jaskier. It just made pain flare in Geralt’s chest.

Now that the adrenaline and fear of what had been imminent and certain death had worn off Geralt found himself feeling less angry and more like he had been stabbed through the chest. He didn’t sleep the first night, only stopping to allow Roach her rest, before setting off at first light as soon as he could. The second night he meditated for a while but even that was a struggle.

It kept going like that until Oxenfurt was in his sights. The University city built on an island in the centre of the Pontar river. Jaskier loved this place. If he was going anywhere it was here. Geralt was sure of it. (Okay he was sort of sure – he really hoped he was right.)

The only issue was – what now? Now, yes, the obvious answer was find the bard, clearly that was what was going to happen but then there would need to be … words. And Geralt…he wasn’t always the best with words. He had been running on anger and adrenaline but now with Oxenfurt’s towering buildings in sight he couldn’t help but think ‘shit’. It was real now. He had to find Jaskier, talk to him, convince him that ‘no, I am not going to kill you – why would you even think that? Now stop being an idiot and come on, let’s go away, come with me again’ and along the way hopefully find out what in the ever living fuck Jaskier fucking was. You know, as a side note – not a priority or anything.

Put like that it shouldn’t be too much of a challenge surely?

Roach nickered beside him. Geralt couldn’t help but feel she was judging him.

He stabled Roach in the first decent stable he knew of at one of Oxenfurt’s many gates before setting off on foot. It had been about a year since he had last searched for Jaskier in this city, back then a group of students had directed him to a tavern that was most often frequented by students and lecturers alike, full of poetry reading nights and all that rot. He had been with Shani then, maybe that’s where he would be again. Or at the very least someone would know where he could find Shani – the two seemed close. Perhaps she would be willing to help.

A voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Vesemir was laughing at how the great White Wolf had apparently stooped to asking students where to find a bard as if it were the most important thing going on in his fucking life. He walked straight past two good contracts to get here! Two! Because neither of them mattered as much as this fucking bard because shit, Geralt refused to just let Jaskier run away like that.

It didn’t take long for him to wind his way through the labyrinthine streets of the city and find the small tavern, he had no idea what it was called (and still didn’t bother to look at the sign now) but decades of Witcher life meant his directional sense and memory of where he had been was perfect.

The smells of the autumn air was quickly drowned by human sweat, vomit and spilt ale as he walked through the tavern doors. It was almost overwhelming, it made Geralt want to wrinkle up his nose and flinch backwards-

Until he caught sight of the red hair with the slight white streak behind her ear that told of her aging. Shani was talking to what looked like a student, they were flailing a folio of papers around and were really not as important as Geralt was right now. Geralt approached from behind Shani, so that the student had plenty of time to see Geralt coming. If Geralt curled his lip and contracted his pupils to thin dangerous slits then, well, he had his reasons. The boy quickly balked, sour fear sweat smell radiating out from his small form. Geralt probably could have just kindly asked or waited for their conversation to end naturally but, eh, he’d feel bad later, even would put it in his schedule. ‘2PM – feel bad for scaring university student just trying to have a conversation with their lecturer’. A single low growl sufficed to scare the student away for good. Shani however didn’t flinch, instead sighing deeply before turning.

“The Witcher, was that really necessary?” She smiled sweetly. A little too sweetly.

“Jaskier, I need to find him.”

Shani narrowed her eyes slightly, “Last I knew he was with-“

“Stop, I can smell the lie on you. He’s here, isn’t he?” Geralt grumbled lowly, out the corner of his eye he saw that a few more people had begun to recognise him, the white hair and yellow eyes weren’t exactly conspicuous. People rapidly started to leave a wide berth around the two.

“So it is your fault,” Shani dropped the sweet smile, “You found out then? You know what he is?”

Geralt hummed, “No, don’t know what he is. Don’t care really. Just want to find him.”

“So you can kill him? You failed last time and want to try again, that it?” Geralt saw the flash in her blue eyes, the way her lip curled and her nose screwed up, anger, disgust, but not fear. It made Geralt wince inwardly, _another person who think’s I’ll kill Jask. Fuck, was I so bad a friend?_ Geralt shook his head vigorously.

“No, I’d never. He’s in no danger from me. Ever. But he ran off, he seemed…upset. I want to find him, help him feel…” He got stuck for words, “Not...upset?”

Shani narrowed her eyes again, before a sharp laugh escaped her lips, “Gods, you’re as useless as him aren’t you? He turned up on my doorstep, streaming tears, the other night. Said you hated him now, I figured you tried to kill him for sure. I should have guessed he was being a bit dramatic.” She stopped talking to drain her wine goblet in front of her, “You two should really try, like, communicating? How can you be so hot but so dumb? I mean really – I don’t know how it took you so long to notice. I would have thought a professional monster hunter would recognise this but-”

“Thanks, I get the point.” Geralt grimaced, yes, as if I haven’t spent long enough beating myself up over how stupid I’ve been, “Can you just tell me what he is? Where he is? Or how I can find him? Please?”

Shani considered him for only a second before a smile broke over her face, small and conniving but a smile was better than accusing him of attempting to murder Jaskier – gods, Geralt really couldn’t think of anything worse than that. Wasn’t that telling?

“He has been working, you’ll have to trick him into thinking you’re a client. Just looking for him will get you nowhere. Trust me, if he doesn’t want you to find him by normal means – you won’t. So, guess you’ve got a bard to summon. Go to the cross roads, out the western gate. There’s a broken down statue, you’ll see the books and candles that are left there. Light a candle at midnight and take an offering. I’m sure he’ll appear.”

Geralt was already turning to leave before Shani finished her last sentence.

“Oh and Geralt?” He stopped, her voice raising over the din of the tavern before he reached the door, “Apologise, I don’t know what happened but he was… it wasn’t great. Just, fix your problems.”

Geralt nodded and then left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really am sorry this took so long. But uni is done now - I have time! And since right now I'm sitting with colour stripping goo in my hair and a hat of clingfilm/suran wrap on my head I decided to wait out the hour of wearing cling film by finishing this chapter up. I know, I'm sorry! Geralt didn't quite catch up to Jaskier yet, but next chapter! I swear! For real this time! I'll probably write a bit more tomorrow while dying my hair for real (going purple!) but I'm not sure if that means it'll be a new chapter tomorrow or if it'll be another day  
> I just wanna say a huge thank you to everyone tho! You're all so nice in the comments! I love yall! <3  
> (and just a funny thing from my uni work - while writing my essays and doiong my references and shit in the bibliography, I was so bored and just wanted to be writing this fic - so more than once I wrote 'Oxenfurt' instead of 'Oxford' in my bibliography XD)


End file.
